


Sight Lines

by BlackEyedGirl



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Asexuality, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:16:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackEyedGirl/pseuds/BlackEyedGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Can you see me?" Written for Porn Battle 12 for prompts asexual and webcam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sight Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle 12 for prompts _asexual_ and _webcam_.

Mark settles the laptop on the bed. He sits cross-legged in front of it and stares at the round circle of the lens. “Can you see me?”

Eduardo stares at him through the screen and Mark watches his throat move when he swallows. Eduardo says, “Yes. I can see you.”

“Okay.” Mark flicks open the buttons of his jeans. “Okay.”

It’s not- it’s a fairly mechanical process for him. There are angles and friction and a few other variables but it’s essentially a biological response to stimuli that doesn’t go much further than that. He wraps his hand around his cock and rubs up and down until he gets a response.

The response this time is Eduardo biting down on his lip, rocking forward closer to his own laptop screen. “Mark.”

Mark licks his palm and then – watching Eduardo’s face – rubs his thumb over the head of his cock to spread the pre-come onto his hand and slide his fingers down.

On his own, Mark has never seen the need to drag this out but there are- he learnt to make more of a show of it, back when he cared about that kind of thing. Not letting it be over too quickly; looking like he enjoyed it.

He enjoys this – “Mark,” – and the way Eduardo’s eyes widen as though Mark is something remarkable. Or not remarkable, because Mark has always been different, but precious, maybe. Worth looking at. “Can I-?” Eduardo asks.

Mark isn’t sure what he means until… “Yes. Touch yourself. Watch me, and touch yourself.”

When Eduardo is here, on the right coast, or the right continent, they find other things to do. Mark is open to experimentation and Eduardo is gratifyingly eager to make it work. Mark wants him in California for a hundred other reasons that have nothing to do with this. But when Eduardo is not in California, this is what they do. Eduardo gets off on watching Mark, and Mark likes the way that Eduardo likes to watch him.

The rest of it doesn’t matter. Mark is fully hard now, and shifts for better access, but what matters is that Eduardo groans and cants his head back. He’s lost in it.

Mark has wondered before if that was part of the reason. He can’t abandon himself to feeling the way Eduardo does; his mind is always working. There is some kind of disconnect between his body and his brain and so the second is never overwhelmed by the first. Mark had seen it as a weakness, once – the way he could not translate the feelings he had about a nice face or a beautiful laugh into that other thing. Now he thinks that it’s just how he’s wired, with some apology for the almost-pun.

He’s not really a robot. Whatever type of sophisticated computer the human mind is, there is nothing rational about this. Eduardo gasps Mark’s name again, his gaze burning through the screen, and it hits Mark hard in his chest. This is the part he wants.

Mark had assumed it would be a sticking point. They had been speaking again for a matter of weeks. Eduardo had kissed him and Mark hadn’t wanted to stop him but he did. Because he had learned by now not to break the things other people placed so trustingly in his hands. Eduardo would not have forgiven Mark letting him walk into another betrayal of trust. “I can’t,” Mark said. “I don’t-. Not like that.” Eduardo had looked hurt for a moment and then only confused. He had read something on Mark’s face.

Eduardo stares at Mark’s face now and Mark wonders what he sees. No one looks attractive doing this but Eduardo is flushed hot beneath his skin. He sees something in Mark.

“Talk to me,” Mark says, before he knows why.

“That’s not-.”

Eduardo’s right. It’s not what this is. If Eduardo wanted to tell Mark about how hot he looks on the bed with his cock curved up towards his stomach, then he would be doing that. But it’s not one of Eduardo’s turn-ons and it sure as hell doesn’t do anything for Mark. He didn’t mean it that way.

Eduardo shrugs and makes what looks to be an effort to concentrate. He moves on the bed. “I miss you,” he says. “I was at a dinner with some investors and I wanted you to be there to mock them for being dull and uninspired and full of shit. I…”

Mark tightens his grip on his cock, delaying just this a little longer. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll fly out next weekend.”

There is sweat beaded on Eduardo’s brow but he still takes a breath to smile at that. “You should. I-.” He arches his back, gasping. “Mark.”

Mark talks then. “I’m here. I’m watching you. Watching me. You’re beautiful when you do that. I should have noticed before.”

Mark looks for the hand he can’t see, for the way Eduardo is scissoring his fingers inside himself, eyes still on Mark. Eduardo jerks his hips forward, with a high pained noise. “Please,” he says. “Please, please, God, Mark.” As though there is anything Mark can do, an ocean and wires and so many other things between them. As though Eduardo believes that none of that matters. Mark can do anything.

Mark slides his hand roughly down his cock, half-forgotten in his watching. He’s close now. “Can you see me?” he asks.

“I- Mark, yes. Yes.”

“Good. I can see you too. I see you. I promise.”

Eduardo shudders. Mark holds eye-contact while he sets the pace, tugging his hand up and down and watching Eduardo follow. His release, when it comes, takes him a little by surprise.

Eduardo cries out and twists, caught between the hand on his cock and the fingers inside him. He closes his eyes for a moment and then opens them again, staring at Mark and still sighing. He doesn’t look surprised; he looks as though he has been waiting too long but the relief is worth all of that. He is open wide and fallen and Mark did that to him.

 _Now_ , is when Mark wants to touch him. He wants Eduardo to wipe himself off and sprawl down in the bed beside him. Mark wants to say the words he hasn’t said yet, but means and has meant for years. Eduardo smiles blearily at him and yawns.

Mark says, “Tired? Do you want me to log off?” Time difference, he reminds himself. Work. Benefits. Dinner meetings. And Eduardo is wrung out and sated in a way that never happens for Mark. He’ll want to sleep.

“No,” Eduardo says. “No, wait.” The screen goes dark for a second; Mark realises that Eduardo has moved too close to it. The image resettles so that Eduardo’s face is sideways. He has put the laptop beside him on the pillow. Eduardo grins. “Talk to me.”

“What do you-?”

“Anything. I told you. I miss you.”

Mark lies down on his side and moves the screen. He’s close enough to the mic that a whisper will carry over the connection. Eduardo smiles again, the one Mark had not been able to decipher until afterwards. The one that matched ‘I’m here for you’ and all the other ways Eduardo had tried to say that before Mark noticed. It’s the one that explains all of this and Mark knows that he has never shown enough on his face to match it. But he says, “Me too,” and sideways on the screen Eduardo nods back.


End file.
